


When 'Team' Means A Safe Space

by jalendavi_lady



Series: Teamwork [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse References, Gen, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con References, Underage Prostitution References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:23:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalendavi_lady/pseuds/jalendavi_lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha gets reassigned while recovering from a mission and the reason why shocks the rest of the Avengers. And that's only the start.</p>
<p>Story content does not fit under but approaches two Archive Warnings. Please read the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Phil Coulson was still in the infirmary Stark had built into the tower dedicated to his impressive ego when the word came through that Natasha and Clint were back from their latest escapade.

Phil hadn't been conscious when they left and no one had told him the target, but the tales on the news of a Russian crime boss's sudden fall into ignominy and government custody was enough to put some pieces together.

"Natasha's here," Tony told him. "She wants you there. She just needed IV medication, and since we'd already worked out places for all the human Avengers to stay here, she's upstairs in her room." His voice was doing the rising-in-pitch thing again.

That, plus the fact she'd asked for him, was enough to let Phil have some idea what had happened.

* * *

Natasha was curled up on the bed facing the wall.

Clint was already there, sitting in the empty space formed in the curve of her knees and holding her hand. His bow was on his lap, the quiver close by within reach.

"We sent Steve to get her bag," Clint told him softly.

_Damn damn damn damn damn. Not again..._

Natasha had left a space open between the headboard and her pillow, and Phil took it as the invitation she always meant it as and sat down there, parking his IV pole beside hers and taking her other hand in his own.

"Phil?" she asked without opening her eyes.

"I'm here, Tasha."

Her hand squeezed his. "Good." She shifted around enough that the pillow pressed up against his hip. "Did we get him?"

"It's all over the news," he told her. "The Russian government is so angered at him that they _charged_ him with bribery when he tried to pay his way out of it all. No one's saying what he was up to, beyond the general charges."

"He was trafficking on the side," Clint whispered.

Phil flinched, closing his eyes.

When he opened them again, Clint matched his gaze. "Code Marian," he mouthed.

Phil cursed in his mind again. That was their private code that she'd not only felt the need to let herself be sexually assaulted (or, to be more accurate, let a target _believe_ he’d managed to sexually assault her) in the course of the mission, but that Clint had had to watch without putting an arrow in the offender's back - on Natasha's orders.

Code Marian meant Clint had needed to hold himself back from being her personal Robin Hood.

"He won't be harming anyone ever again." Phil hadn't even realized Director Fury was standing in the doorway until he spoke. "One of the guards at the facility he was being held in had a daughter who went missing a few years ago and turned up in one of the brothels you uncovered. He had a little accident this morning."

"Good." Her voice was the bitterest Phil had ever heard her.

"Agent Romanoff, you're being reassigned."

"What?" She twisted around to look at him.

"You are too valuable to the planet to be in the field again against a standard-level human threat. You're the only person we know of who has successfully picked an extraterrestrial's mind. We cannot afford to risk losing you. You're being permanently reassigned to the Avenger's Initiative. I'm sure figuring out how to keep the rest working together without destroying valuable old-growth forest again will be more than enough to fill your time and justify your salary."

"You knew," she mumbled.

"I never would have let you leave the country on that mission if we'd known."

Phil was confused. Clint looked just as confused.

"Agent Coulson, same reassignment. Most of your day-to-day tasks will remain the same."

He nodded. He'd honestly been hoping for it, and with Natasha no longer mentally and physically depending on him as the person who could order her out or order someone else to _get her out right now_ , he could actually feel comfortable about it.

He was as sick as Clint of knowing what was going on, knowing she deemed it necessary, knowing SHIELD guidelines declared it her call until her freedom or her life was in danger, and not being able to do anything. But at least he'd never had to personally _watch_.

Fury left.

Natasha scooted against the pillow again. "It's over?" she whispered.

Clint let go of her hand and patted her arm. "It's over."

"It's over," Phil repeated.

_It's the last time we ever have to do this._ He was sure of it. Natasha was strong enough, trained enough, that under nearly any conditions she could defend herself from one to a few human men. The times they'd had to sit like this and help her through the aftermath, she'd either _let_ herself be overpowered or needed to seduce someone she found physically repugnant.

Her shoulders started shaking.

Bruce showed up in the doorway. "Steve told me to bring this upstairs, he and Tony are running out for something, and what is wrong with Natasha?"

Phil took the bag from him and quickly fluffed out the contents.

One overly fluffy blanket, a knitted bed-cap big enough to fit all her hair in even when she'd been growing it out, and a pair of matching bed-socks.

Phil passed her the socks and she slipped them on, being careful of the IV line, while Clint spread the blanket over her.

"What happened to Natasha?" Bruce repeated.

"Mission went wrong. I had to let something happen to stop a very bad man, Bruce." She tucked her hair into the cap.

"The crime boss they're talking about on TV?"

"He was trafficking children, Bruce," Clint told him in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Does he need smashing?" Bruce asked, too quickly for Phil's liking. Although, once he thought about it, the Hulk seeking _permission_ before raging after something was likely an improvement and it was beginning to seem like the functional lines between Bruce's mind and the Hulk's weren't as clear-cut as SHIELD had thought.

"No, Bruce." Natasha was smiling, or at least as close to smiling as she could usually manage at this point. "But you can tell the Other Guy it was a very sweet thing to offer and that I'll be sure to consult him for all my smashing needs in the future."

"Are you sure?"

"Fury says the father of one of his victims has already successfully engineered his demise," Phil told him.

"Ah." He put a hand on the blanket-covered rise of Natasha's shoulder. "Is there anything else you need to feel comfortable and safe?"

"No, but thanks. I'll tell JARVIS to get you if I think of anything."

"You sure?"

"The other guy's still feeling bad about chasing me, isn't he?"

"Well, um, possibly..."

"Oatmeal raisin cookies. And the cheapest rotgut vodka you can find."

Bruce glanced at the IV pole.

Natasha sighed. "Okay, just the cookies."

He smiled and left.

It wasn't five minutes later when Steve came in, carrying a plastic shopping bag. "Fury said something about a transfer?"

Clint answered, "Phil and Natasha were permanently transferred to the Avenger's Initiative."

"Tony's finding a room you can stay in, Phil. And he sent Pepper off on some sort of errand."

"He doesn't need to..."

"You shouldn't be spending nights in the Infirmary downstairs when the rest of us have rooms," Clint told him.

"Fine," he gave in.

"Um, I have something for you," Steve told Natasha.

"Oh?" She turned to face him.

"This is for you." He reached in and pulled out a plush bear with a longish snout wearing a furry hat.

Phil braced himself for the outlash. Natasha Romanoff had never been the sort of person he would associate with owning stuffed animals as an adult.

"Oh!" She reached out and Steve handed the bear to her. "A proper grizzly bear with an adult's nose. He's even wearing an _ushanka_! Steve, how hard did you have to look to find him?"

"Doesn't matter. I thought you'd need something to snuggle with, and since you already requested that blanket... I thought you might not be mad."

"Mad? Steve, I love him."

"Do you need someone else here with you? I can go grab the shield. I'm only a few doors away."

"Do you need to stay?" Natasha asked him back.

Steve nodded.

"All right then. Go get the shield."


	2. Chapter 2

Phil tried not to think about Steve's insistence on staying. He tried not to think about the bear with the ear-flap hat.

He tried not to think about the way her hand was resting on Steve's as it rested on her other arm.

"What did Fury mean, he would never have let you go on that mission?" Clint finally asked.

"We had... a history."

_Dear God..._

"My earliest training was in his organization.

Phil felt himself relax. At least it hadn't been...

"Which part?" Clint asked in a voice as taut as a bowstring.

No answer.

 _No no no no no I did_ not _stand by_ how _many times while a sex abuse victim_ let _herself be mistreated again._ No. _Absolutely not._

Steve's hand visibly squeezed. "Which part, Natka?"

Phil's mind had just enough time to process that yes, the Soviets had been allies when Steve was frozen so yes he'd be likely to know some standard Russian nicknames when they got their answer.

"I was nine! I was nine and I escaped after a month and a mercenary group took me in because their leader liked my spunk and thought I had potential. They trained me in how to fight. And then I joined the proper military once I was old enough. He didn't even recognize me, but by God he never gets to hurt anyone ever again!"

"Natka..." Steve squeezed her arm again.

Clint was staring into empty space.

Phil felt like doing the same.

They had _sat_ and _listened_ and Clint had _watched_ , for God's sake, while a former _child prostitute_ let men she could not _stand_ have sex with or flat-out _assault_ her for the good of a country she had not even been born in.

Not that being a citizen by birth instead of by law and fervent oath would have made it any better.

There was coughing from the doorway.

Bruce was standing there holding a bag from the local bakery. Tony was right behind him, his face blanched and his hands shaking even as they held a bouquet of yellow roses.

_Roses, Stark? Roses!?_

"Yellow roses mean friendship," Bruce said quietly, as if he'd caught the reaction.

Tony put the flowers in an empty oriental vase on the dresser. "Natasha, if I need to go take care of something for you..."

"He's already dead," she told him as she curled up on herself.

Her feet hit Clint in the rear, and he finally seemed to snap back into awareness. "Nat?"

"I wouldn't've done it if I didn't trust you, and I only did it without Phil this time because it was my one shot and I _knew_ the bastard well enough to dare." She visibly forced herself to calm down. "I knew you two would always end it whenever I wanted it to stop. And now Fury's ended it forever."

Clint sat a long moment, just holding her hand. "If I'd known," he finally said, "I would have put an arrow in his back the first time I saw him."

She pressed the back of his hand against her cheek. "That wouldn't have stopped his operations. This did."

"Good," Bruce told her as he sat the bag beside the vase. "When I was on the run, I treated kids for things kids just shouldn't have."

Phil noticed Natasha was looking straight into Bruce's eyes.

"They were all runaways, so far as I could tell. There were a few reputable rescue organizations in the area that I tried to steer them to. And when you took me out of there, I handed Fury all the information I could recall from the stories they told me."

Natasha laid her head back down. "Bless you."

"Tony, let's let her try to get some sleep," Bruce suggested.

"Natasha, if you need anything, you tell JARVIS. Got it?"

"Got it."

Tony left.

Bruce nodded meaningfully at the IV pole. "I hope most of those are precautionary."

"He was clean when they tested him," Clint said, "but making sure makes her feel better."

"I always take the full course. Nothing's going to get antibiotic or antiviral resistance from this, at least not that way."

"I'm glad it helps," Bruce told her. "And if seeing him ripped apart in effigy would help, please remember that I know a guy."

Natasha smiled, her eyes drifting shut as she snuggled deeper under her blanket and pulled her bear close. "I may have to take you two up on that. I haven't seen the woods upstate yet."

Bruce patted her shoulder. "Goodnight."

When he was gone, Clint and Phil both moved a little closer to her. "Tasha, I swear, if we had known..."

"Phil, I needed to do this."

"If we had known," he repeated, "you would have never been asked to..."

" _Somebody_ had to. Someone _will_ have to."

"And now it will just have to be someone who chose that life as an adult," Steve told her kindly.

There was a rolling sound from the hallway and a moment later Tony and Pepper were wheeling a folded-up roll-away bed through the door.

"We, ah..."

"We thought things might be getting a bit cramped even though Tony put a full-size bed in here, so we thought you all might appreciate this."

Natasha looked over her shoulder again. "Go ahead."

They set it up with Steve's help, careful of the two IV poles and the lines leading from them.

"Want to join the sleepover?" she joked.

"You ought to have another woman in here," Pepper told her seriously. "Might as well be me."

"It ought to be all of us defending you tonight. We're a _team_."

Natasha seemed to consider that. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff?"

"Get Bruce."

* * *

They finally settled down with Natash curled up in Pepper's arms with Clint scrunched in at their feet and Phil leaning on pillows pressed into the corner where the walls met.

Tony and Bruce were lying on the twin bed at an angle so that Steve would have a place to sit at their feet.

"I don't need as much sleep as the rest of you do," he had explained. "I can catch up tomorrow."

* * *

Phil was the last one awake other than Steve.

Natasha whimpered in her sleep, but between Phil stroking her shoulder and Pepper unconsciously pulling her closer she settled back down without waking herself or anyone else up.

Steve caught his eye. "You couldn't have known," he whispered.

"Doesn't make it better," Phil whispered back. "She trusted me to protect her."

"Seems to me, she thinks you _have_." He looked down at her. "So much else has changed. I think I was hoping _that_ would be gone too."

"We're trying. Nearly the whole world's trying."

Steve looked away. "I'm just thinking out loud again. Get some sleep."

* * *

Beep.

Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep...

_ What... _

"IV alarm," Bruce announced. "I'll deal with it."

Everybody complained when he turned the light on with no warning.

Settling back down once he had seen to everyone's medical needs and turned the light off again took time.

"Goodnight," Bruce told them all in the darkness.

"Goodnight, Bruce," Clint answered back.

"Goodnight, Other Guy."

"Tony, that really was  not appropriate."

"Pepper, when has my sense of humor ever been appropriate?"

Natasha yawned. "I thought it was sweet."

"This is a reminder that it is currently three hours until dawn."

Clint quietly counted down. "Three... two... one..."

"Goodnight, JARVIS!" everybody but Steve chorused.

"Doo. Doo-doo."

"Tony, do I have to come over there?" Clint threatened.

"I missed a reference there, didn't I?" Steve asked after a moment.

"No one introduced you to  _ The Waltons_ ? We need to have a marathon."

"Tony, I swear..."

"Ow, watch where you're sticking that bow."

A moment of blissful silence.

"Barton, I meant it." Steve's voice was strained.

"Clint, stop it," Natasha ordered in her best 'I will kick your ass' voice. And, given why they were all there, Phil seriously doubted anyone would cross her.

He just shook his head, closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the continuing bickering.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't until two weeks later, once they'd gotten Steve through enough of _The Waltons_ that substituting something else for movie night seemed reasonable, that anyone but Natasha had the first clue what was up with Steve.

They had decided to follow Phil's suggestion of watching Scorsese's early films set in New York to give Steve an idea of how the city and perceptions of it had changed over the decades, but JARVIS balked.

'Balk' in this case meaning that a number of movies Tony swore he had were not in the listing at all.

"JARVIS, I can understand putting a _warning_ on _Taxi Driver_ for Natasha's sake, but did you have to remove it from the database? And what was so wrong with _Who's That Knocking_ , apart from one scene?"

"I'm sorry sir. I've been asked to restrict films with some of their content and the Avenger making the request asked me to be discreet about it if at all possible."

"Was not me," Bruce told him. "I've seen worse in person without transforming."

"It wasn't me, either," Phil concurred. "Even if I'd need to step out of the room for part of _Knocking_."

"For the record, I actually _like Taxi Driver_."

Everyone stared at Natasha.

"He takes care of her and she gets away. Why would I have issues seeing my old revenge fantasies in Technicolor?" She got up and headed toward the popcorn. "And I know when to duck my head and cover my ears in _Knocking_. Might even join Phil outside."

Clint filled a bag for her. "I don't think I'll ever want to watch _that_ scene again, but everyone knows why so why would I ask for discretion?"

"Well, I wouldn't have said anything if I'd been the one to ask JARVIS to do it." Tony counted off on his fingers, and then the blood drained from his face. "Pepper?"

"Not I," she told him. "Believe me, if anyone ever hurt me like that, I'd warn _you_ to behave around me _."_

"I am willing to be a knight in shining armor whenever needed..."

She smiled at him. "More like a knight in dented armor."

"More like _highly_ dented armor," Natasha joked.

"Damn chitauri," Tony grumbled. "But who does that leave?"

Just then, Steve stepped out of the elevator carrying the evening's supply of pizza.

Phil's mind tried desperately not to process what was now absolutely apparent.

Bruce was his normal calm self.

A muscle in Tony's face started twitching. "My God," he whispered.

Steve stopped walking. "What just happened?"

Natasha met his gaze. "JARVIS. Content restrictions."

Steve said a few words Phil hadn't actually been sure he even _knew_.

Pepper gasped.

Steve set the boxes down on the bar.

"Steve?" Clint asked.

He closed his eyes, leaning on the bar and to Phil it looked like breathing and staying upright with support was just about as much as he could manage at the moment. Which, given that he _was_ Captain Freaking America, said a lot more than it would for anyone else in the room.

"Whatever it is, you've got us now," Bruce told him.

Horrible things played through Phil's mind.

_Widowed mother and later orphaned, physically weak, limited self-defense knowledge at that time, few close friends... Textbook ready-made victim for adults or peers._

_How the hell did I miss that, I've only been reading about him since I was old enough to read my cousin's old comic books!  
_

"Yeah, man. You've got us." It was as rattled as Phil had ever heard Tony Stark.

"I spent my teenage years getting beaten up in alleys by other kids. Bucky protected me when he could, but no friend can be there all the time. A few times..." Steve paused for a moment. "A few times, things went further."

"Sorry about nudging you with my bow," Clint apologized into the silence that followed.

Steve nodded, still not opening his eyes.

Pepper looked up at the ceiling. "JARVIS, do any of us have any projected issues with Adam West's _Batman_?"

"No one present has any predicted problems with that film, Ms. Potts."

"Pepper?" Tony asked.

Natasha walked over to Steve, wrapped an arm around his shoulders as well as someone her height could manage, and steered him toward the couch. "If we can still manage to watch a movie tonight, we'll need something light and distracting."

"So bring on the shark-repellent batspray," Bruce added.

Steve finally seemed to come back to himself. "What..."

Natasha tightened her grip on his shoulders for a moment. "They're trying to pick something to watch that won't be serious or jarring for you. If any of us end up feeling like watching anything tonight."

"I suppose there's no need for us to get involved at this point," Bruce said nonchalantly.

It took a moment for Phil to process that his air of complete indifference probably meant the exact and complete opposite: Bruce was trying his damnedest to keep the Hulk from entering the situation.

"They would be in their 90s by now, if they're still alive at all. Senile, probably can't remember a thing..." He took a deep breath. "The few other people who ever knew also knew better than to write something like that down."

"So it's just us who know," Clint reasoned with him. "And we're a team now, and you're our Captain."

"You know _I_ won't look down on you for it," Natasha told him.

Bruce put a few slices of pizza on a plate and brought it over to him. "Eat. Trust me, a full stomach helps a multitude of hurts."

Steve nodded and took it. "... Tony?"

He walked over. "Some things my father said make a lot more sense now, Steve. I think he was afraid that I wouldn't tell if anything ever happened to me, so he did a lot of talking when I was little about letting him know if anyone hurt me no matter who. He was a hands-off parent otherwise, but he made sure I knew that."

"Howard knew," Steve confirmed. "He had to. There are some things that just can't be hidden by a human experimentation subject."

"I know that story," Pepper told him.

Steve sat for a while with the plate of pizza sitting on his lap. "... Phil?"

He grabbed one of the coke glasses off the bar and carried it over. They had taken to using the old-style glassware for sodas so everyone would know at a glance what had alcohol in it and what definitely did not, given the number of Avengers and friends who could not, would not, or should not drink alcohol and the fact it was practically ubiquitous at Tony Stark's personal bar. Phil hoped the feel of the glass would be something familiar now. "Here." He pressed it into Steve's hand.

He looked away from Phil so completely that Phil couldn't see any of his face besides the tips of his ears. "Sorry your childhood hero wasn't who you thought he was."

"Stop that," Phil snapped. "That was their doing, not yours. If you're at fault for what happened to you, then Tasha's at fault for what happened to her. And she _isn't_. It just means that the golden age of morality people keep talking about _wasn't_. Things just got hidden better, and when things are hidden no one does anything about them."

"This from a SHIELD agent with _how_ many security clearances?" Tony quipped.

"Classification isn't the same thing as hiding. At least not when it's done for the reasons it's meant to be."

And then Phil caught Natasha's knowing look and the way no one else who could see Steve's face was moving to correct him and wondered...

_Wait. That kind of thinking about himself would have made the serum procedure fail. Erskine wouldn't have tried._

"That wasn't about how you feel about yourself, was it? That was what you thought _I_ might feel about you."

Steve turned his head back and nodded.

He had never looked so young to Phil before and in that moment it finally hit him.

In terms of days actively lived, Steve was one of the two youngest people in the room, Natasha being the other. Pepper and Bruce were the next oldest, followed by Clint and finally by Tony and Phil himself.

"We're all on your side now," Clint told him. "No matter what some other people would say even now."

"I was serious about the food. A good meal and friends nearby are _the_ universal human coping strategy."

"That and alcohol," Tony chimed in.

Steve finished chewing his first bite of pizza. "I can't get drunk."

"What?" The word was a mix of real and theatrically overblown horror. Tony rushed over and felt Steve's forehead with the back of his hand. "How awful. Do we need to get you a doctor?"

Pepper rolled her eyes.

Steve smiled, just a bit but it was genuine. "It was a side-effect. My metabolism gets rid of it too quickly for anything but a mild buzz." He actually managed a little laugh. "Believe me, your father and I _tried_ to get me drunk. I can't believe he wouldn't have told you that story - we only cleared out the entire stock of two local bars _and_ the Officer's Club."

Clint's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Later," Steve promised around another mouthful of pizza.

"If I may make a suggestion regarding the evening's viewing selection?"

"What is it, JARVIS?" Tony asked.

"It seems to me that tonight would be a good time to ignore the education of Mr. Rogers in favor of revisiting the familiar."

"Sounds good to me," Bruce volunteered.

"Steve's been the one doing all the adjusting," Natasha commented. "Maybe it's our turn to find out where he's starting from."

"All in favor?" Cheering. "All opposed?" Silence. "Steve, you okay with us going ahead?"

"JARVIS can stop it if I find out I'm not."

"Right."

The lights dimmed by about two-thirds, enough that they could still see to get food and drink whenever they wanted.

Phil sat down beside Steve. Natasha let go of him and rubbed her arm.

The film came on and the American-born Avengers started laughing.

Natasha joined them the second the title came up.

"We represent the lollypop..."

A bag of popcorn flew through the air and hit Tony on the head.

"Okay!" He ducked his head slightly and held his arms up in a defensive position. "I'll wait until the songs actually come on."

"Good!" came the chorus.

And that was when Bruce called Tony 'Tin Man' with Pepper quickly giving reassurances that yes, she was _absolutely_ sure that Tony really did have a heart, no matter what the tabloids said.

Thus started an hour and a half of audience participatory viewing that even Steve could participate in. And if anything needed explaining, it was usually _Steve_ doing the explaining for once.


	4. Chapter 4

JARVIS only brightened the lights slightly when the movie was over, and Phil could see by the looks on people's faces that no one but he and Natasha had been aware of what had happened during the final approach to the Emerald City.

Steve had fallen asleep using Phil as a support to stay upright.

"Oh, now _that's_ priceless," Clint joked.

"When did he drop off?" Pepper asked.

"Sometime soon after Bruce started singing "It's Not Easy being Green". Which needs to happen at the next Division talent show."

"They wouldn't think it was funny, Natasha."

"So?" Tony laughed. "We would."

"And you know what also wouldn't be funny?" Bruce continued.

Tony turned towards him. "What?"

"The looks on their faces when the other guy reacts to the booing."

No one could dispute that.

Phil moved the shoulder Steve was leaning on. "You fell asleep during the movie," he told Steve as he blinked sleepily. "The credits ended a few minutes ago."

"Thanks," he yawned as he sat up.

Everyone headed toward the elevator, cleaning up after themselves as they went.

Everyone but Phil and Tony and Steve, that was.

"So," Tony asked, leaning forward, "since we've established what Phil's thoughts on the subject are..."

"What do I think of what happened to me?"

A quick nod.

"I hate bullies, as much as I hate anything. They were just a different kind of bully with a different idea of how to demean people weaker than they were. It's just another way of making someone scream in terror. It was different, but..." He seemed to be searching for words.

"It's a matter of scale? Larger moral failing, bigger scars on the victim, but the blame falls the same way?" Tony offered.

" _Different_ moral failing, _different_ scars," Steve quickly amended. "I also count HYDRA and the Nazis as bullies."

Tony gave a quick nod. "Right. Suppose that's where Dad got that from, too."

"So, why are you two doing this?"

"Steve, whatever support structure you may have pieced together back then is gone now. Which means you need a new one, _now_ ," Phil explained. "We're just making sure you never bought into the more damaging ways of mentally explaining..."

"We're making sure you don't think any of it was your fault. Which, technically, you told us before the movie. But you never told us what _you_ think, only what you don't agree with."

"I was a... a victim because I was small and slow and easy to catch even if I'd run instead of standing and fighting. None of which was my fault. And standing and fighting is not a bad thing."

_The multiple attempts at enlisting, even when he'd been stamped as 4F over and over again._

_It wasn't just a matter of trying to get into the Army, of being told he was better suited to filling a job someone built for the military needed to leave behind._

_It was_ personal _. He thinks it wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been a 4F._

But Phil didn't say anything about that.

"You're right," is what he did say. "None of it was your fault."

Tony must have picked up on it too, because he added, "And it wouldn't have been even if they'd picked you for any other reason. Even if you'd been strong back then. Even if you'd been strong and them weak but extremely lucky. Got that, Capsicle?"

Phil felt his jaw flexing. "What did you just call him?" he managed to demand in a wavering voice.

Steve smiled a bit uncertainly, as if he didn't _quite_ believe. "Right... Tin Man."

Tony smirked at him before holding up a finger. " _Only_ in private. And I'd advise all of us against any impulse to call the other guy The Jolly Green Giant."

"You... you... you..."

"Relax, Phil,"" Steve told him. "Why do you think he's keeping the hole Loki left behind?"

"I thought it was a war trophy."

"That too. And I'm hoping Hulk will see it as that. A memento of the day we all smashed together for the first time." Tony sniffed theatrically.

"Here's hoping it's a long wait for the second time." Steve yawned.

Phil took the glass and plate from him. "We'll clean up."

* * *

When Steve was gone and the room cleaned up as well as it needed to be for the moment, they turned to each other and asked, "You saw it too?"

"He's young enough, isn't he?" Tony said after they shared a very nervous laugh.

"To have been one of ours, you mean?"

"Or Bruce's - he's older than he seems, I've noticed the fact he took so long to enter the research community covers it up for a lot of people. And not by a teenage error, either. I've got prep school classmates with children that old. They're mostly trophy wives, but _still_."

"And yet _we're_ the generation raised on 'Eat up, Captain America would _always_ finish his peas'."

A grin. A rather predatory grin. "Has anyone bothered telling him about that yet, I wonder?"

"I don't think so."

Tony was silent for a long time. "Damn. That young and alone... I had people around who I knew when my parents were killed."

"Steve's got us."

"And _only_ us."

"Natasha's in the same boat."

"Yeah, but she's used to it. She used to it just being you and Clint she could depend on, and now she's got _all_ of us, including Steve's psychological urges to protect bullied kids. He's the guy everyone here except Natasha was raised to see in a protective role. And yes, she's the one with the psychology training that might help him, but..."

"He's not going to ask."

"Exactly. And he's still not telling us everything."

Phil nodded. "I see you picked up on the stress of how weak he was before the serum."

"Yeah. But there's something else. Did anything change in his life when he turned 18 _beyond_ becoming an adult?"

"Graduation from high school, I'd imagine."

"But he didn't say it was _classmates_ , only people around his own age. There isn't a reason for it to have stopped until Erskine stuck the serum in him, and that was in his mid-twenties. Three years ago or less, by his own experience of time. It _didn't_ stop."

Phil tried to get his mind around the idea of Captain America willfully lying by omission.

"He told us what he needed to in order to explain what he asked JARVIS to do and for us to understand that he's not in a toxic headspace about it. And to keep us from triggering him without realizing it. But the idea that this doesn't happen to _men_ , just women and boys? He's less than a year removed from living in the middle of 1940s gender framing, and no one realized he needed _that_ training in how laws and societal views have changed, only 'here's how not to get sued for harassment or gender discrimination'. Because Captain America would never _do_ that." Tony stretched. "I'll have to slip him some books, find something that points that out without making the fact we know blatantly apparent."

Phil yawned.

"I'll be glad if we have a month when nothing more happens."

"Me too."

"Thor has _got_ to be having a better time than this."

"We don't know how the Asgardian justice system works. He didn't give us any idea of when Loki might be sentenced."

"At least that's something he's anticipating. I don't like all these surprises out of nowhere."

As if the universe had heard Tony's statement, a helicopter appeared in the distance and drew nearer, the SHIELD logo clearly visible.

Phil stared at him. "Do we need to have a hardwood table up here just for superstitious knocking?"

"I'll have Pepper start looking through furniture catalogs tomorrow."

It came to a hover on the balcony outside.

Nick Fury stepped out of the door and ran over. "Get Steve."

"What's..." Phil started to ask.

"Peggy's alive. Get Steve up here. Faster the better. We're got a plane standing by."

Tony sprinted for the elevator. "Get my briefcase! It's under the bar!" he called over his shoulder.

Phil dashed over and pulled the briefcase suit out and over to the helicopter.

"I guess Stark's inviting himself along, sir," he reported to Fury as he passed it over.

"Good."

The rotors were not slowing down and Fury was already stepping back onto the helicopter before Steve and Tony had even made it out of the elevator, Steve still in the Army shirt and black drawstring pants he slept in.

The pieces fit into places as they left, what it all must mean, what no one was _saying_ because it was too horrible to admit just what was waiting at the end of the midnight flight.

Because Margaret Carter was pushing 100 or already past it, and who but Fury knew just what had brought her continued existence into SHIELD's awareness so suddenly.

"God."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that is a sequel hook.


End file.
